


Like the Hours Between Dawn and Dusk

by bug_from_space



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, Legilimency, No Dialogue, Occlumency, Overstimulation, Post-Canon, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Queenie Goldstein deserves nice things, The greater good, kind of, the author is very gay for Vinda Rosier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: Queenie had always known people that could quiet the voices when they became too much. Queenie was like wind, Jacob was water, and Vinda? Vinda was the night time.





	Like the Hours Between Dawn and Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> So I got inspired to do this a few weeks ago after I'd seen the movie, but I only just wrote it, after finding that this ship has such few posts on tumblr, and nothing on ao3. So enjoy some jazz era femslash. You know, something that isn't grindeldore...

Throughout her life, Queenie had always known people that could quiet the voices when they became too much. When the pressure of hearing every stray thought and opinion threatened to consume her own.When they had been young, it had been Tina. Her wonderful sister who had always been able to muffle the noises, like a gust of wind that replaced the maelstrom with white noise. Tina had always known when she to help. The windy days had become comforting, had found ways of stifling the noise. She’d never needed to explain, Tina had simply helped.

And then, there had been Jacob, who had never been good at making everything silent, but he’d been warm. Made the voices bearable, and took the edges off them. He was grounding. Perfect at making sure that she would never spiral out of control, and in the few cases it did get to be too much, he had always gotten her out, and made her laugh. Jacob had always been like warm water she could go under. Comforting, and capable of making everything else seem a little distant. Less sharp. Even if he couldn’t make it perfect, he had been good.

And then there had been Vinda. Vinda who had made everything silent. Like the world had shifted back into focus, and the cacophony had vanished with just a touch of her hand. Like the night at its height, when the world is still, or the center of a storm where the silence reigns. Vinda never made Queenie feel like there was the underlying feeling of electricity running underneath her skin. No, instead she made things quiet. Vinda never asked what was wrong, or if she needed time, she was always there when Queenie needed her, like a shadow.

The first time, it had been necessary. Everything had become too much-too much- _too much_. And then she was there, and everything wasn’t. Like a bubble had been formed, and all the thoughts that had become overwhelming were cut off. (Could you blame her for going with?) 

The second time was easier. There were less people, and far more spread out in Nurmengard. But, the stress and the guilt had taken their toll, and the guards she had were thin, so all the fears and thoughts came flooding in; hers, and everyone else’s. Moments later Vinda had come in, looking just as beautiful as she had the first time they met, and when she had sat beside her, laying her hand, gently on Queenie’s shoulder, it was like Vinda had repaired the walls that had been battered down. And nothing mattered, because this moment was peaceful.

The third, fourth, and the fifth times, all followed a similar pattern. Whenever it became too much, and the world was frenetic, Vinda would be there. With a bit of casual affection, and a bit of light conversation about something harmless (books, stories from her time at school, music, nothing and everything) until Queenie felt capable of facing the world again. 

The sixth time was the worst. Too much had happened, and stacked on itself, until Queenie felt like she was being crushed under the weight of the world. And like all the previous times, Vinda had come in, this time with a cup of tea, and a soft smile, as she sat on the edge of the bed, with the light pink cover. (A soft kiss exchanged, and Vinda turns pink like the bed.) And it is, for a brief moment, enough for the voices to be gone, and in this room, in this single frame in time, the war seemed very far away.


End file.
